It's past curfew

Oh tilted dream

Wherein I'm yet again angry

An unkept prisoner of sleep

Honestly waiting disgrace

In a prison of memory

Dishonest aptitudes

Writhing to kill

Any peace

The tattooed heart on my epidermis sleeve

Has lost the vibrant pigments of any happy glow

 And it vigilante hurts as if long past curfew when I breath

Still I meander off to sleep awaiting on another blind tomorrow

A faceless epidemic threat beyond nightmares dethroning my hope

Just another monumentally disastrous uneventful day 

Thankfully I'll just stay hidden in doors

Where nothing but silence happens

Wherein slowly faith bleeds

For if family disowns

What loves is there

For me...?

Every day...

Another great day

To stay behind closed doors

Where the volumes of silence consume

The last happy note of a long discontinued happiness 

As this heart bleeds straight tattooed off this sleeve

Metaphor for the hope dying within willingly

How long till suicide can it be...

When a family has disowned

Does love exist... 

For those like me?